Starflight: Rebellion
by Catalina Storm
Summary: Pokémon told in a way unlike any other! Join Ash Ketchum and the crew of the Freedom Rider as they travel the galaxy and oppose the encroaching evil of Rocket!


Starflight  
  
Disclaimer: I do not nor have I ever owned anything in this fic except for character ideas and story. Don't sue me, I don't have any money. All my money goes into buying anime-releated merchandise anyway, so you're getting it back somehow.  
  
Author's Notes and Whatnot: This is the forth revision of this story/concept, and it's coming together the best of them all. It took me four months to write this sole chapter, so don't expect to much too fast. I am refocusing and getting serious about writing again, after a nice hiatus. However, real life does exist these days, but I will do my honest best to keep up on these stories.  
  
I've been working on this story and its concepts for so long that I can't remember exactly where they originated from. However, I've always been a fan and advocate of furry/anthropomorphic fiction, and the two genres meshed very well here. I'm having fun working all the aspects of Pokémon into this story, but there are no Johto Pokémon here yet. Rest assured, they will appear, but when I began this story, the "second set" of Pokémon hadn't even been released in Japan yet. Well, I'm done rambling. Enjoy the show! *^_^x*  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
It hung like a jewel outside the forward viewscreen, suspended in the dark velvet of deep space. Around and about it, the sparkling pinpricks of distant stars mad've lanet appear as if it was set into a living tapestry. Maelstroms of color twirled about its surface, a cloud cover lethal to almost every being in the galaxy. Storms of unimaginable fury danced over the gaseous planet, some of the larger ones nearly as big as planets themselves.  
  
Saffron was by far the largest planet in the solar system, which had been designated the same name as the planet. The other planets were uninhabitable, crater-strewn rocks that danced their eternal dance around the single star burning brightly in the center of their system. Several smaller moons were caught by Saffron's dense gravity and swam in elliptical orbits around the gas planet.  
  
Five out of the twelve moons of Saffron could support life, and their environments were as varied as their sizes. However, it was the third moon of Saffron, known to travelers and galactic map-makers as Saffron III, that caught the attention of a modified light transport ship coming in-system.  
  
The light from the distant star that served as the system's sun danced over the scuffed metal finish of the freighter. Small dents and dings decorated the ship, though the larger of the tarnishes had attempts at patches. Twin red and blue lines accentuated the wings and the flowing shape of the ship, though the paint was beginning to wear in places. The engines were changing color as the lightspeed drive switched over to sublight engines.  
  
The ship rotated a bit on its axis to find bearing, then the course altered as it began to head straight on a path towards Saffron III.  
  
Ash Ketchum, trainer, pilot, and rogue extraordinare tore his eyes away from the planet hanging far outside his ship and scanned the board in front of him. "Engine status?" he asked, his eyes not leaving the control board before him.  
  
"All subloight engines are green, cap'n. Course set straight for Saffron III." The thickly accented voice came from Ash's left, and he didn't need to look over to feel the Golduck's narrow eyes on him.  
  
"Thanks, Klaw." Ash spun in his seat, gold-flecked eyes following the board to the communications station. There, a slender pinkish figure sat, clothed in an aquamarine body suit. "Anything out of the ordinary on the frequencies, Jil?"  
  
A pink-tinted hand held the headphone to a triangular ear. "Nothing that we're picking up," the slim Jigglypuff said. She was concentration on flipping through the various communications frequencies that pirates and bounty hunters used, as well as the few Rocket frequencies that the League had cracked thus far.  
  
"That's good." Ash nodded, looking out the window towards the growing planet, then back at the Jigglypuff. "Keep an ear out, though. Rocket was rumored to have shown up in Vermilion, and it isn't that much of a leap for them to have entered the Saffron system."  
  
"Of course," Jil said, then spun the dial with her free hand as she continued monitoring the radio frequencies.  
  
Seeing that everything in the cockpit of the Freedom Rider was running in fairly good order, Ash nodded with a bit of satisfaction and allowed himself to sit back in his seat and relax for a bit. His friends took their jobs seriously enough for him to be able to do that.  
  
It had been a long trip from the Cerulean system. The galaxy was large, and there were few stopping points from system to system. They had originally stopped on Cerulean to refuel and have some rest and relaxation. However, they were grounded when Rocket capital ships appeared in-system to try to take some of the orbiting stations around Cerulean captive. League capital ships had appeared and the crew of the Freedom Rider had been witness to one of the biggest lightfights in the Cerulean system since the war began.  
  
Ash felt the tiniest bit cheated at having been denied the chance to fight Rocket. However, as an official Pokémon League Trainer, he wasn't even allowed to carry a sidearm, nonetheless fight in the war! Ash tapped his thigh absently; his fingers coming into contact with the cool metal of the top of the blaster he wore at all times these days. "Forget about the rules," he thought. "These days, it's all about survival!"  
  
Indeed, it was all about survival. Rocket, who had begun as a gang on the planet of Viridian, had grown into an army large enough to challenge the League's hold on the galaxy. And challenge they did, until the sporadic fighting erupted into an all-out civil war. Ash couldn't understand how Rocket could gain so many followers, they preached of dictatorship and cruelty. Then again, when looking at the human nature, it wasn't that surprising at all.  
  
"If only we could fight them!" Ash made a fist and stared at it. He knew that if the League allowed the trainers and their anthros the chance to participate in this war, then they'd have an army double the size of Rocket's in no time flat! The League, on the other hand, expressly stated that they weren't going to allow kids to get involved. "What a joke." Rocket had been recruiting everywhere that they could, and they were taking anyone who wanted to join their cause. Not only was the League's stance against the youngest set of trainers joining the fight damaging to the morale of those who wanted to, it gave them cause to jump ship and join Rocket!  
  
Ash had even entertained the thought of joining the Academy, Rocket's prestigious school for pilots. However, he got a taste of what, exactly, Rocket was up to on Cerulean and now even that fleeting thought of going to the Academy left a sour taste in his mouth. It was bad enough that Ash had seen his school friends be recruited and return totally changed, but to nearly have fallen under their spell himself? Involuntarily, Ash shuddered.  
  
"Ash, what's wrong?"  
  
Ash blinked, startled out of his contemplation. He glanced over his shoulder at the fourth occupant of the cockpit. Ten smiled at him, running one of her yellow-tinted hands through her main of orangish hair. However, the Pikachu's smile was full of worry for her boss.  
  
"It's nothing." Ash returned his gaze back out to the distant planet of Saffron. "I was just thinking about this upcoming Gym Challenge, that's all." He folded his arms across his chest and sunk a little lower in his seat, willing for Ten to catch the hint and let him alone for a bit.  
  
"I don't think that's all." The Pikachu anthro leaned forwards, cupping her chin in her hand. She studied Ash, who was all the while sinking lower in his seat. "I'll bet that you were thinking about the war. Again."  
  
Ash shrugged, then crossed his arms again. "Doesn't everybody, these days?" He forced a smile onto his normally grim countenance. "Besides, why worry about it? There's nothing that we can do about it, anyway."  
  
"And that's exactly what worries you." Ash glanced sharply back at Ten, who leaned over his chair and frowned at him. "You can't fool me, Ashton Ketchum. I've known you for too long."  
  
Ash frowned in response, but couldn't figure out a good way to respond to that. As much as he didn't like to admit it, the Pikachu had him there. Before he was forced to concede to her, however, a loud klaxon shattered the peace in the cockpit.  
  
Instantly, Ash was upright again, scanning the board in front of him. "Jil!" Ash bellowed over the din, waiting for his communications expert to report in to him.  
  
"Two ships incoming," Ten said, scanning the navigation board. "One is turning . . . deploying snubfighters!"  
  
Jil was frantically spinning the dial, looking for the frequency the ships were using. "Sensor packages identify incoming starfighters as Bounders," she exclaimed, scanning the reports as they came up. "IFF beacons for the transports read Terror Strike and Acid Spray!"  
  
"That's gotta be Rocket, the League doesn't permit capital ships to be named after Pokémon elemental attacks, that's the privilege of the corvettes and freighters." Ash tugged at the rolled-up ends of his fingerless gloves then twisted his cap around so that the brim wouldn't distract him in the upcoming lightfight. "Would someone shut off that damn klaxon?"  
  
Klaw punching something with his teal fist and the siren died mid-squeal. "Wot the 'ell's goin' on?" A new voice came from the door to the cockpit.  
  
Ash glanced over his shoulder. Saura, a Bulbasaur anthro and Fiery, an Arcanine, were trying to squeeze through the cockpit door. Out in the hall he could see the tip of Maverick the Pidgeotto's plume. "One at a time, guys! Fiery, Saura, Rocket ships have targeted us and deployed Bounders. Both of you, into the gunwells!" As he spoke, the anthros disappeared off to do as they were told. "Ten . . . you know what to do. Maverick, take over navigation."  
  
"Yes, sir!" Ten rose, passing off her station to the Pidgeotto and then vanishing out of the cockpit. Ash tapped the communications to make sure the inter-ship systems were online and operational, before firmly taking hold of the Freedom Rider's piloting controls.  
  
"Should I bring the shields ta full?" Klaw asked, tapping some keys with his thick teal claws. Ash glanced over at him, then up out the window.  
  
"No . . . not yet. Make sure they're ready to snap online at the touch of a button, though." He tapped the control on his board that opened the channel between the cockpit and the gunwell. "Okay, you two. Power up weapons, but hold fire until I give the order," he said. "Saura, Fiery, no potshots until I tell you? Understood?"  
  
"Yes, sah!" Fiery's voice echoed over the comm. Then the Arcanine obviously forgot to turn off his communications unit as he yelled down the gunwell at Saura. "I bet I take out more Rocket scum than you, frogface!"  
  
Ash rolled his eyes, but kept himself focused. He cracked his knuckles before settling his hands on the controls once more. "We'll wait for them to make the first move," he said calmly.  
  
After several tense seconds in which no one spoke, Jil suddenly became a flash of movement. "They're hailing us," she said, her aquamarine eyes flashing coldly.  
  
"Bring it up on my screen," Ash said, tapping a command into his console. "But don't allow the visuals to leave the ship. Exterior radio silence."  
  
Jil bobbed her head, her attention on what she was doing. "Understood." She typed in a few more commands; her hands a steady blur of pink. "Establishing link . . . now!"  
  
Ash, as well as the other three occupants of the cockpit, turned their attention to the monitor that usually served as the ship's heads-up display. The HUD glowed eerily for a moment, and then the background shifted as it switched over into holonet projection mode. A small portrait of a nameless, nondescript Rocket in a crisp white uniform appeared. "Unidentified ship," he said in precise military terms. "Power down and await boarding. Resistance shall not be tolerated."  
  
The display abruptly died as Ash punched the cutout button. "Smug jackass," he snarled, glancing over his shoulder. He knew that the Rocket had every right to be smug, they were outgunned and were going to be outmaneuvered unless Ash and the other did something fast! "All right, gang, let's pull it together! We're going to kick some Rocket butt!"  
  
As he spoke, he slapped several keys on his console and grabbed the yoke, thrusting it forwards. The ship bucked and shot forwards as the power supply to the engine nearly doubled in size.  
  
Even as the ship shot forwards, a smaller ship launched from the cargo bay. The wings that were held tight against the main body of the starfighter unfolded outwards, proton cannons extending from the tips of the wings. With an inarticulate shout, Ten shot forwards in her Skitter. "All clear, Boss!" she cried, jerking the Skitter away from the larger ship. "Now, let's do this!"  
  
The sudden burst in acceleration from the Freedom Rider caused the two flights of Bounders to scatter, and the sudden appearance of the one snubfighter that could easily pick apart the shieldless Bounders caused some consternation among the Rocket pilots. Several turned about and headed for what seemed like easier prey, the Freedom Rider. The rest whirled and spun around Ten's Skitter, staying behind to deal with the lone starfighter.  
  
The Bounders closing in on the seemingly defenseless Freedom Rider were in for a nasty surprise. What they didn't know was that the trainer's ship had been modified beyond League regulations and had some very nasty teeth.  
  
One Bounder got close enough to snap off a few brightly-colored shots, green beams of proton energy lanced out from the top and bottom of the Freedom Rider. These shots impaled one of the Bounders on its molten energy and discouraged the others from coming too close.  
  
The entire ship shuddered as it took a hit. "Shields?" Ash demanded as the lights in the cockpit flickered alarmingly.  
  
"Holding, seventy percent," Maverick reported, tapping quickly away at her console. "It was a lucky shot."  
  
"Damn it, Saura! Keep them off our tail!" Ash snapped into the comm, yanking the ship to one side in a maneuver to hopefully shake the pursuing Bounders.  
  
"I'm trying!" Saura replied, focusing her targeting square once more. "It's too damned hard to hit these leeches," she snarled, more to herself than out loud as she triggered another burst of the quad lasers.  
  
"If it's too hard for you, Saura, then give up. I'll light up all the ones you can only paint," Fiery teased, as another Bounder exploded right below them. Saura swore for a second, then shot at another Bounder as it looped around in a pass. This time the green energy shot forwards and caught the tail end of the ship. Argent liquid leapt from where she punctured the fuel tank, and then suddenly there was a brief but bright explosion as all of the oxygen ignited.  
  
Saura's triumphant war whoop echoed over the comm. "Take that, you striped bastard!" she cried.  
  
"Great shot, frogface, but I've still lit one more Bounder than you. Take that," the Arcanine sniggered, shooting at another target.  
  
"Whiskerchops! I'll beat you yet!"  
  
"Saura! Fiery!" Ash snapped. He really didn't want to hear those two go at it now. "Concentrate on lighting up the orbs, not each other!"  
  
"Sorry, Boss," Fiery's apology seemed genuine, but Ash didn't have the time to waste concentrating on bickering anthros. Both of the transport ships were trying to block in the Freedom Rider by getting on either side of him to prevent the ship from making a run to lightspeed. If they succeeded in cornering the ship, it was just a matter of time before the Bounders would box them in and a transport would get a bead on them to lock a tractor beam on. He wasn't about to let that happen!  
  
"Blast it, Ten, where the hell are you?"  
  
"Kinda busy, Boss!" Ten yanked her flight stick to one side, rolling her Skitter to avoid being skewered on a red, lancing, concussion missile. Close to a dozen Bounders had her surrounded, and right now they were playing "let's see who can get the Skitter of guard and vape her when she's chasing another one of us!" Ten wanted no part in this game, but she didn't have much of a choice in the matter.  
  
Several beams of the carmine light shot past Ten's cockpit, but she barely spared them a glance even as they scraped on her shields. Okay . . . let's see how well you like a taste of your own medicine! The Pikachu's gloved hand slapped her firing apparatus over to missiles and she yanked the ship around, dropping in on one offending Bounder's tail.  
  
Ten spared a glance at her sensors as several more Bounders dropped in on her tail. It was like a deadly game of follow-the-leader, and Ten was about to be on the loosing side. I think it's time I rewrote those rules!  
  
She depressed the firing button, dropping two torpedoes, which caught up with the lead Bounder in next to no time. Ten yanked her flight stick up; missing the spectacular explosion as the Skitter went straight up and over the mortally wounded Bounder. The others following her, however, were nowhere near as lucky, or as maneuverable as the Skitter. Two actually flew into the explosion. One joined his comrade in an explosion of oxygen, but the second made it through albeit unsteadily.  
  
"Ten, they're boxin' us in!" Ash shouted through the comm, trying to pull the Freedom Rider into a tight loop to avoid the blue-hued beam that suddenly shot out of one of the transports. It was by sheer luck that they avoided being sucked into the maw of the Rocket transport ship.  
  
Ash tasted blood in his mouth, and swallowed angrily. He had bitten his lip so hard that it had drawn blood. Pulling the ship into a tight corkscrew made it harder for the bulkier transport ships to get a lock on him, but he had no idea how long he could keep this up. "Ten, get your tail over here, or we're lunchmeat! We can't make a jump without you!"  
  
There was no reply from the snubfighter. Ash glanced to Maverick, trying to keep the panicked expression off of his face. However, the Pidgeotto was concentrating on getting targets to the two Pokémon in the gun wells and didn't have time to track one lone snubfighter through the melee outside.  
  
"Ten!" Ash called through the ship's frequency again, trying to run down the explosions he saw out of the corner of his eye and realizing exactly how futile that really was. If Ten had been vaped . . . he didn't know what he would do. "Ten, do you read?"  
  
"Loud and clear, cap'n," Ten's voice broke through, a bit scratchy as the vacuum of space played havoc with the communicator's frequency. Ash let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in relief. "Sorry 'bout that, I was too busy trying not to get my butt vaped." Static played with the link once more and some of Ten's words were a bit garbled. However, the next words were understood loud and clear. "I'm coming in as soon as I can shake these Bounders, so don't be goin' nowhere without me!"  
  
"Understood," Ash confirmed the relief evident in his voice. The other Pokémon in the cockpit looked to one another, managing to keep the smiles off their faces.  
  
Ash risked a glance at the Rocket transports. They were moving once more, trying to entrap the Freedom Rider in another sort of snare. Ash swallowed worriedly and wondered exactly how much longer that they could hold out . . .  
  
~ * ~  
  
The lounge of the Dark Vengeance was small, cramped, and poorly lit. It also smelled funny, but none of these trifling things bothered Gary Oak in the slightest. In fact, he rather enjoyed the darkness. It allowed him to think clearly and avoid distractions.  
  
Gary sat back in his seat. The chair he was using rocked a bit with his movement and he nearly overbalanced before he remembered that this wasn't one of the ordinary chairs that were bolted to the floor. This chair was a decorative piece that Jolty had scrounged. It was the ejector seat from a decommissioned Skitter, presumably all that was left intact of the starfighter. Gary smiled a bit, getting comfortable. The chair was one of his favorites, for no matter what position you were in, it was always comfortable. It was a great chair to think in, which was precisely what he should have been doing. Gary returned his attention to the hologram before him.  
  
The hologram was a three-dimensional map that showed the section of the galaxy that the Pokémon training stadiums and competitive gyms were located. The eight systems were spread out quite a bit, but not that much if one considered the galactic scheme of things. A time-efficient trainer would be able to cover all eight gyms in about three standard months, but would have to wait for the seasonal games held on Indigo. Hence, most trainers took their time, enjoyed getting to know their crew and often their crew's families while wandering the star systems.  
  
Being a trainer was not only a privilege, but also a learning experience for most. Their gym challenges were tests of skill and character, and when the final tournaments came about on Indigo, then it was like graduation. Most trainers, after completing the Indigo circuit, were offered posts anywhere in the League, and depending on the amount of skill an initiative one showed it would determine your place in life.  
  
There was always the alternative, of course, going through a secondary education. A lot of other people did that, because maybe they couldn't pilot a ship, or didn't like the way the battles were structured. However, most trainers went straight into government positions at the ages of seventeen and eighteen, while those getting a secondary education normally didn't begin their careers until their early twenties. The majority of those seeking secondary education, though, were the ones interested in becoming Pokémon professors, doctors, and scientists.  
  
Gary's grandfather was the esteemed Professor Samuel Oak of Pallet Station. Gary's parents often encouraged him to follow in his grandfather's footsteps, but for some strange reason that just didn't appeal to Gary. Maybe it was the constant egging on of his friend and former classmate Ash Ketchum. They had been competing against one another since they were in diapers.  
  
Shaking his head, Gary jolted himself out of the past and stared at the holographic map once more. He had each gym pegged by its "color" so to speak . . . each gym specified in an element, and most elements were associated with colors. By using this map, Gary could easily tell where they were headed to and start formulating a strategy so that his team could win. However, the map was used mainly so that Gary didn't get himself lost . . . though he would never admit it to anyone, astro-navigation just wasn't a strong point with him.  
  
Gary frowned after a moment, then punched a new set of commands into the holographic projector. The picture blurred as the system read the new variables and accounted for them. After a moment, it spat back out a new picture, and Gary studied this one as well.  
  
Here he had input the names of the trainers with whom he'd crossed paths and where they had been recently. Landing and docking records helped tremendously with that, although a mere trainer shouldn't be able to come across such information . . . legally. At the gyms where they had battled, little notations about the trainers and their anthros sprung up where that Gym Leader had input into his or her personal computer their thoughts about the battles. Now Gary could easily see where his opponents were at and where they were going.  
  
Gary liked keeping abreast of what his rivals were up to. He felt that it gave him a bit of an edge, and if he felt that he ever needed to meet one of them in combat, then he knew roughly how versed in combat they were.  
  
Lately, Gary's team of anthros had suffered from the loss of one of their powerhouses. Kira, their cook and resident clown, had been required to remain on Viridian with the rest of her tribe. The Nidoqueen had other responsibilities that reached farther back than her commitment with the team, and although she hadn't wanted to leave them, everyone, including Gary, had encouraged her to go. So Kira had taken a leave of absence from the team.  
  
Gary missed the Nidoqueen's lighthearted attitude and the fact that she was a heck of a cook. He knew she'd come back eventually . . . just how long would that be?  
  
"Heya, Boss! Kinda dark in here, doncha think?"  
  
The voice startled Gary, and he looked up. It came from the outline of a spiky anthropomorphic Pokémon leaning in the doorway. Said Pokémon hit the wall switch and ignited the majority of the lights in the lounge. Gary blinked in surprise and pain as the lounge was washed in cold fluorescent light. When his vision cleared, he could see the Jolteon as he leaned against the doorway. Swiping an arm across his eyes in a futile attempt to rid himself of the starbursts that still swam on the edges of his vision, Gary greeted the Pokémon. "What was that for, Jolty?"  
  
The Jolteon was trying to clean his gold-hued paws and snout unsuccessfully with an oil-streaked rag that had emerged from a pocket on his grease- splattered overalls. He was covered in grease and chemicals as well, probably from working on the leaky drive fixture. "I patched up the hole in the drive system," he reported idly. "It should hold for a good, long while . . . I melded it to the core."  
  
The captain of the Dark Vengeance didn't appear to hear the Jolteon; he had his hands clasped in front of his face and a distant expression on his features. Jolty sighed and stopped scrubbing his nose for a second. "Hey, League to Gary, League to Gary, come in, Gary."  
  
No response. Jolty rolled his eyes. Sometimes the captain could be as thickheaded as a brick. He knew exactly what to do to snap Gary out of this one. "Hey, Boss, a warnin' . . . Vapor's on KP tonight."  
  
Gary's attention snapped to Jolty instantly. "She's what?" The Jolteon's face split into a wide and not-nice-in-the-slightest grin. "Jolty, who put her on KP?"  
  
"If I remember correctly, it was you, Boss." Jolty shrugged, tucking his rag back into his pocket. "Don't you remember, you handed out assignments the other night. It rotated out to her."  
  
"No, I don't," Gary dropped his head into his hands. Vapor, the Vaporeon communications officer, was probably the only water Pokémon on record to burn water. He sighed to himself, and made another mental note to take her off the list for kitchen duty.  
  
Just as he had that thought, the door at the other end of the lounge opened, and Vapor stuck her head through with a huge smile on her blue- tinted features. "Hey, y'all!" she called happily. "Dinner'll be on shortly!"  
  
"Great!" Jolty replied a double-edged grin on his features that had nothing to do with the quality of the food. "What's on for dinner?"  
  
The Vaporeon brightened. "You'll like it, Jolty." She winked, but then her expression darkened slightly. "I'm not quite sure what to call it, though. Nyarn . . . well, Nyarn called it --"  
  
Jolty coughed into his paw to cover up his laughter. "Um, that's okay, Vapor. We all know what Nyarn thinks." The gruff and surly Nyarn could be rather crude when called for. The Nidoking had never been really approachable, and these days he was just downright mean.  
  
Vapor shrugged, still smiling broadly. "I guess it doesn't have a name, then. It's kinda a soupy thing." Her ears perked, and then she glanced over at Gary, frowning slightly. "Boss, something wrong?"  
  
Gary had been smacking himself in the forehead. At Vapor's inquiry, he glanced up and put a smile on. "Oh, no, nothing's wrong. I just remembered that I forgot to do something very important, that's all. I feel like an idiot."  
  
"Ah, don't feel bad, Boss. We all forget stuff." Vapor shrugged. "Oh, whoops! The pot is boiling over. I hope you're hungry!" Vapor's head disappeared back through the door.  
  
"So . . . " Jolty drawled, seating himself in one of the bolted-down seats, he was apparently as clean as he was gonna get. "What did you forget to do, Boss?"  
  
"To take Vapor of the list of people on KP," Gary replied dryly.  
  
Jolty barked a laugh that made Fylar's ears perk up as he entered through the door Jolty had been standing in. "And what are you laughing at," the Flareon inquired, seating himself opposite Jolty.  
  
"You'll understand soon enough," Jolty said, scratching the back of his neck and still snickering. The Flareon glanced at Gary, who rolled his eyes in response. Fylar shrugged at Nyarn, who had entered the lounge as well. The surly-looking Nidoking glared at the Flareon, who shrunk a little in his seat and then decided that making eye contact might be a bad idea.  
  
"Dinner's on!" Vapor called cheerily from the kitchen.  
  
Both Fylar and Nyarn actually paled and glanced at each other, before glaring and Gary. "You let her into the kitchen?" Fylar hissed, while Nyarn just closed his eyes and rested his head on the console that doubled as a table. It was taking the small amount of self-control that Jolty possessed not to burst into hysterical laughter and both the anthropomorphic Pokémon's expressions.  
  
Gary shrugged helplessly. "I didn't realize it at the time," he hissed back. "Be good!"  
  
"Or what?" Fylar responded in a low hiss. "We'll be dead? That'll be the result if we eat that!" The Flareon cut off the rest of his comment when Vapor appeared through the door. She was carrying a tray with seven steaming bowls. Beaming happily, she placed a bowl and a utensil before everyone present, then frowned at the leftover bowl. Shrugging, she watched everyone expectantly before she sampled her own wares.  
  
Gary peered at his soup before taking a wary whiff on the concoction. It was faintly carmine in color, with all manner of interesting debris floating in it. The odor it gave off faintly reminded him of a Muk's sludge, mixed with some rotten eggs, old gym socks that had been fermenting in a locker for months, and a Weezing's toxic attack thrown in for good measure.  
  
He lifted the spoon bravely, but choked and settled on watching Fylar, who already had a glob of the stuff on his spoon. The Flareon, the bravest of them all by a long shot, swallowed it down. Everyone stared at the Pokémon, waiting for him to either keel over dead or mutate. "Are you . . . all right?" Gary asked warily, as the Flareon got a bizarre expression on his face.  
  
"It's . . ." Fylar began, but then his eyes crossed and he turned a distinctive shade of green. For a red-hued Pokémon, that was certainly quite a feat. "Urk!"  
  
Vapor peered into the leftover bowls with a disappointed look on her face. "Aw, I guess I used to much of the shinta spices we got on Saffron," she said, poking at the concoction with her spoon. "It must be horrible!"  
  
The others looked from Vapor to Fylar, who was hacking and coughing. Nyarn reached over to give the Flareon a hearty whack in the center of his back. "Yes, it probably is," Jolty said, nodding quickly in the hopes that the food would disappear down a garbage chute quickly with that pronouncement.  
  
"Dinner's not over yet, is it?" Eve asked, coming through the door. The Eevee anthro was dressed in her traditional blue blouse and dark pants, but her most noticeable characteristic at the moment was the tray of something that smelled entirely too good to be true.  
  
The others gave out a hearty cheer as Eve dished out some real dinner. "You're a lifesaver," Gary said gratefully as the Eevee served him.  
  
Eve winked a large brown eye at him. "Then do us all a favor and take Vapor off of the list, all right? You're lucky I thought to look at the list, otherwise we would have been stuck with that stuff, which looked like it was attempting to breed life."  
  
Vapor collected the bowls of gunk and went to rinse them out while the others dug into the generous repast that Eve had created for them. "Wow, this is some good stuff," Jolty said in appreciation. He winked at the Eevee anthro. "You might just be useful yet, for an unevolved Pokémon!"  
  
Gary winced as Eve stood calmly, then picked up a ladle, holding it like a bludgeon and stalking purposefully towards the Jolteon. Jolty paled and dove under the table as Eve berated him, both physically and verbally. "Idiot! Are you ever going to get over that? I am Gary's second, and I don't need to hear junk like that from! So are you going to get over that "unevolved species" bias, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?"  
  
"I'm over it, I'm over it! Truce, uncle, just leave me alone, please!" Jolty called from beneath the table. Gary chuckled as he finished off a portion of his dinner. The three Eeveeloutions were always good-naturedly ribbing Eve about coming from a line of unevolved Pokémon. Since they were of the anthropomorphic line of Pokémon, they did not have the unstable DNA that allowed them to instantaneously evolve like the non-anthropomorphic Pokémon.  
  
"Not bloody likely," Fylar snorted. "Give the git what for, Eve!"  
  
"All right, guys," Gary clapped his hands, calling the antics off. "Fylar, never do that accent again, it's frightening." Eve and Jolty chuckled as they returned to their seats, and Fylar turned his nose up.  
  
"You wound me, sirrah," he moaned melodramatically.  
  
Gary rolled his eyes. "Fun's fun, but we'll be coming up on a gym soon. We need to discuss a battle plan." Gary pushed his plate away and activated his holographic projector once more. He linked it to his datapad quickly, and then produced a three-dimensional image of the target planet. "Folks, we're headed to --"  
  
"Vermilion!" Jolty exclaimed, excited. He then dropped his ears at Gary's glance. "Sorry, Boss."  
  
Gary nodded, accepting the apology. "That's correct, we're heading towards Vermilion. It seems like a logical step after our sweep on Cerulean, so we'll give Surge a bit of a surprise." Gary tapped a few keys, and the image fizzled, before separating into two different pictures. The first image was a picture depicting a man in his late twenties or early thirties. He was tall and built relatively strong, with a lot of muscles on his frame. His hair stood up in straight spikes as if he had just received a violent shock.  
  
"This, as you may or may not know, is Surge." Gary rotated the image as Vapor thoughtfully hit the lights. The other anthros abandoned whatever remained of their meals and gathered around Gary. "Not only is Surge a powerful Gym Leader, but he's also a Council Member, as most Gym Leaders become because of their qualifications." Gary's expression turned grim. "His is of questionable morals, as I have heard, and there have been rumors that have linked him to Rocket. However, those rumors are unsubstantiated and shall not be mentioned once we dock."  
  
"He's linked to Rocket, but he retains his position in the Council? There's something wrong with that," Eve said darkly, crossing her arms across her chest.  
  
"I won't argue with you there, Eve, there is something very wrong with that." Gary shook his head. "However, we're simply here to battle and not express political opinions, for right or wrong. Anyway, Surge specializes in the electrical element, as would be expected from this planet. I'm sure Jolty is familiar with his techniques, given that he trained with Surge for a bit."  
  
"Really?" Fylar interjected, swiveling to look at the gold-hued Jolteon. "I didn't know about that."  
  
Jolty shrugged. "So I trained at a Gym, no biggie."  
  
"That indicates talent," Eve said, her eyes wide in surprise. "It's an accomplishment you should be proud of, Jolty. Not every anthro gets to train at a gym."  
  
It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it looked as though the Jolty blushed. "It's nothin'," he replied. "No big deal."  
  
"Actually, it is a big deal," Gary said with a bit of a smile. This caused a surprise reaction from Jolty's corner, which broadened Gary's smile. "Jolty, you're our best asset to beating him right now. I expect you to be a big help in our training for this match."  
  
"As if I'd be anything else," the Jolteon quipped.  
  
"Also, I've reviewed the limits on the battle that Surge has posted. Four anthros, no trainer interference." Gary frowned. "Somehow, I don't see Surge abiding by the rules he sets up, so we best be prepared for any situation." He glanced at the assembled anthros. "Vapor, I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to ask you to sit this one out."  
  
The Vaporeon wave one hand. "Nah, don't worry about it, Boss. Ain't your fault I'm susceptible to electric attacks." She grinned at Eve. "You just give'em hell for me, got that?"  
  
Eve returned the grin. "But of course."  
  
Gary inclined his head. "In that case, Jolty, you're in charge. I want a full report of what, exactly; you're going to do. Otherwise . . . the battle is yours."  
  
Jolty nodded his head, a surprised expression on his face at the sudden responsibility thrust onto him. "I . . . understand, Boss. Thanks for trusting me."  
  
The trainer stood. "I'm glad that I can, Jolty. Don't let me down." Gary smiled as he took his tray and plates into the galley to dump them down the sink. Then he thought to glance at the list to see who was on cleanup duty. Then he smacked himself in the forehead and groaned. "Man, don't you think I could take myself off the dishes?"  
  
He glanced back out the door and smiled. The five anthros had huddled into a tight circle, with Jolty at its head. He was glad to see that they were including Vapor and her ideas, as well, even though she could not participate in the actual battle, she wasn't a half-bad strategist. The Jolteon was describing some sort of attack, and using his paws to explain it. He ended with slamming one fist into the other, which made both Eve and Vapor wince slightly. But they all nodded and began discussing it among themselves in soft voices.  
  
"They're a good team," Gary said softly to himself. He smiled, then turned around and caught sight of the dishes once more. Rolling his eyes, he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "You would think that a Vaporeon could simply use her water attacks to get the dishes done in no time, but no, they're left to the intrepid captain to wash." He rolled up his sleeves and waded gamely into the lot of them.  
  
~ * ~  
  
Ritchie Yeager had to admit Pinkan Station was an alarming shade of, well . . . pink. Ritchie sat back at the vidconsole and stared up at the pink ceiling as he waited for his call to be transferred through. He wondered at the whole point of the pink thing . . . the station and everything in it was various shades of the color and made one feel as though they were walking through a giant bag of cotton candy.  
  
He took off his hat and ran a hand through his spiky brown hair, making it stick up at all angles. It didn't really matter how unkempt his hair was, as Sparks told him once, it already looked as if he had a permanent case of hat hair. At fourteen, Ritchie was on the younger end of the Pokémon trainer spectrum, but that didn't bother him a bit. He had run into plenty of trainers who looked down on him because of his younger age, and it had past the point when it bothered him.  
  
"Come on," Ritchie groaned, his eyes going back to the vidconsole. The screen showed nothing but static, and the little indicator bar in the corner of the screen looked like it was stuck. He had been waiting for what felt like forever for the lines to connect. They would, eventually . . . he knew that sending calls through the asteroid field took a while, but this was beginning to get ridiculous!  
  
Ritchie sighed, cupping his chin in his hand and drumming on the desk. Time was getting short; he didn't have all day to make a single call!  
  
A derisive snort came from somewhere over his left shoulder. "No luck, huh?" Ritchie glanced up, staring at the reflection in the blank monitor. His sole companion was leaning against a transparasteel wall and watching some skimmers offload passengers. The Pikachu glanced at him, his arms folded across his chest and ears back.  
  
"Not yet, at any rate," Ritchie said with a sigh. "This is a pain."  
  
Sparks shrugged at him and returned his attention to the skimmers. Ritchie rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to the monitor. To his surprise, the screen had changed colors when he wasn't paying attention to its content. Just then the console gave off a musical tone. "Call connected. Please stand by," a pleasant female voice told him. Ritchie turned his attention fully to the screen, wondering if the voice had been a Lapras or a Jigglypuff ... they both had melodious voices like that. As he was turning that puzzle over in his mind, the call flickered through. Although the picture was quite a bit static-y, he could recognize the anthro on the other end easily enough. "Saan!"  
  
Saan, a Butterfree, smiled widely. "Captain Ritchie! It is good to hear from you!"  
  
"It's great to see you again, Saan. The connections' out here are lousy, I'm glad I could get this monitor working." Ritchie almost smacked the side of the vidconsole but decided against it, the machine might retaliate by loosing the precarious connection.  
  
"How has your exploration of the Orange Archipelagos been faring?" Saan asked in her delicate voice. She glanced back over her shoulder, and Ritchie got a glimpse of an orange blur before the entire screen shook and Saan toppled out of the picture.  
  
"Boss! Is that really you?" Shar the Charmander said excitedly. "It's great to hear from you! When are you coming back? Did you find out if that legend was true?" The Charmander's eyes went wide, then closed and he toppled over. Saan stood up, a disgusted expression on her face.  
  
"Savages, the lot of them," she sniffed, obviously not meant for Ritchie to hear.  
  
Sparks had wandered over once he heard the call connect, and he sniggered over Ritchie's shoulder. "Oh, man, Shar's gonna be out for days. I hope she realizes she's doused the only good cook in a week's worth of Sleep Powder."  
  
"Oh, hush," Ritchie chided, grinning.  
  
"Sorry about that," Saan apologized, still glaring off-screen. "The crew's a bit ... rowdy."  
  
"That's quite all right, Saan," he assured her, laughing slightly. "I'm glad to see that everyone's in good spirits. When we get back we're gonna head out towards a gym ... Vermilion or Saffron, they're the closest."  
  
"Really?" Saan's eyes light up in anticipation. "That's great to hear, sir! We're out of practice, and a Gym Challenge should sharpen our skills once more!"  
  
"I'm certainly glad you're excited," Ritchie smiled. He missed being with his ship and the other anthros, although he was sure that they had appreciated the time off. The Rapid Defender, his ship, was docked at Mikan Station. The station was often referred to as the "Gateway to the Orange Archipelagos", and it was not too far of from the planet of Valencia. "How has everyone been doing? Not to many nights spent in the brig, I hope?"  
  
"Everyone's fine, although we've had some trouble keeping Shar and Nraa out of bar fights." Saan reported. She looked at Ritchie, and he could hear the excitement in her voice easily. "So you'll be returning soon, then?"  
  
"Yeah, in fact, we're catching the next skimmer off this station. With luck, we'll be there in time for dinner tonight." Sparks snorted, and Ritchie turned to glare at him. "You have a problem?"  
  
Ritchie turned around and saw Saan looking confused. "Sorry, Saan, I was talking to Sparks."  
  
"Oh! That's quite all right, sir." Saan peered through the console. "Sparks, you're there as well?"  
  
"Of course, you silly bug. Where would I be?" Sparks leaned on Ritchie's chair. "How long did it take the Charmander to find the Cerulean crab-beast I put in his bunk?"  
  
"Three nights, and thank you ever so much for admitting to it," Saan said sweetly.  
  
"I hate to break this up, but I've got another question for Saan," Ritchie said, gently pushing Sparks back. "How bad has the Rocket activity been around Mikan, Saan?"  
  
Saan's eyes narrowed considerably. "Rocket's been making attempts to enter the archipelagos, sir," she said grimly.  
  
"You're joking," Ritchie replied in a low voice. He swore under his breath. At the Butterfree's expression, he knew that it had to be the truth.  
  
"They've been repelled by the Mikan Defenders on several occasions, but Rocket's wearing the Defenders thin. It's only a matter of time before they're going to come through and take Mikan."  
  
Ritchie nodded. "Right, I understand. We'll be there as soon as possible, Saan."  
  
"Okay, captain. We can't wait for your return. Rapid Defender, out." The link fizzled into static and then cut and Ritchie frowned at the screen before snapping it off. Rocket was getting bolder, defying the League openly these days. Rocket was moving out of the shadows and into the light. It was becoming very dangerous to be a trainer.  
  
Sparks straightened as Ritchie scooted his chair out. "So we're heading back," the Pikachu said his voice mocking.  
  
"What is your problem, Sparks?" Ritchie asked as he stood. Straightening his clothes, he idly stuck his hands into the pockets of his trenchcoat. The Pikachu didn't reply, and Ritchie didn't really expect him to. "All right, fine. Have you heard from Lauriel yet?"  
  
"Not hide nor scale of the Lapras," Sparks said derisively. "She's all but vanished off the face of the station."  
  
Ritchie stopped walking and spun, staring at the anthro in shock. "You knew this and you let me tell the others we'd be back tonight? What in all the hells possessed you to do such a thing, Sparks?"  
  
Sparks shrugged, and Ritchie resumed his pace forwards, a sour expression on his face. Sparks fell into step about a pace behind Ritchie. The Pikachu pulled at the sleeves of his faux-Tauros-hide bomber jacket and snorted. "If you ask my opinion of it, she's laid up drunk in the brig."  
  
"Well, I don't particularly care for your opinion right now, although your logic in this astounds me. Did you even bother to check the brig?"  
  
Sparks wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Hell, no. I wouldn't go into that hole for all the creds in the galaxy. You know how those people feel about anthros. You'd probably still be searching for me, never mind Lauriel."  
  
Ritchie sighed, stopping and glancing around. Sparks spoke the truth . . . a lot of people didn't see anthros as people, just as very advanced pets that could speak. It was hard enough getting past the cultural bias that existed on some worlds, he didn't even want to think about the human/Pokémon one.  
  
That should have been the League's number one concern right now, but Rocket had shown up and was causing havoc, so worrying about the prejudices in the galaxy took the back burner.  
  
"Okay, so Lauriel might be in the brig. You checked all the bars just to be on the safe side, right?"  
  
"Of course," Sparks snorted at him. "She's a jockey, boss. I don't know how she ended up in the dead-end job of being a shuttle pilot, but she drowns her woes in pints o'the good stuff."  
  
Ritchie winced. "You know I don't like to think about that," he scolded the Pikachu. He couldn't count the number of times they'd been delayed on their journey because they had to wait for Lauriel to recover from her latest binge. Sparks shrugged again as they turned onto the main bypass. "Great. If we can't find our pilot, how the heck are we supposed to get off this rock?"  
  
"Your guess is as good as mine, Chief." Sparks stuck his paws in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. They had stepped on a moving sidewalk and were now moving through the crowd with a speed that couldn't be attained through a steady walk.  
  
Ritchie kept a sharp eye out for any Lapras as they moved through the crush of people in the center of the space station. While there were plenty of Lapras mingling and wandering around, none were clad in the normal piloting jumpsuit that Lauriel wore like a second skin. Sparks kept an eye out as well, scanning the crowd like an old pro. They disembarked the moving sidewalk and began to head towards the docks.  
  
They continued on like this at a steady stroll, until Sparks caught the eye of a scruffy-looking teenage boy. He nudged Ritchie, muttering under his breath. "Don't look now, boss, but here comes some trouble."  
  
Ritchie glanced at Sparks, and then looked in the direction that the Pikachu had indicated. Sure enough, a scruffy-looking boy a few years Ritchie's elder was heading purposefully in their direction. As soon as the boy realized he'd been spotted, he wave amiably. "Yo, I think you're the guy I've been looking for," he called, trotting over.  
  
"Really?" Ritchie said conversationally, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sparks purposefully laid a hand on the handle of his blaster. "And who might you be looking for?"  
  
"Some kid named Ricky, with a Pikachu anthro tagging after 'im. Lauriel's charge."  
  
Sparks glanced at Ritchie sideways. This could always be a trap by a desperate thief, but there was no way to warn Ritchie without alerting the other. Ritchie didn't look too worried about it, though.  
  
"The name's Ritchie," Ritchie corrected, looking the boy over. "Maybe I am who you're looking for. Why are you looking for me? And how do you know Lauriel?" The boy was clad in black pants, a shirt that might have once been white but stained into various shades of yellow, and a vest. The outfit was more suited to a smuggler than to a pilot, and he didn't look trustworthy in the slightest.  
  
The boy hiked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating one of the exit ramps. "Mariel's warmin' the skimmer now," he said casually. "Lauriel got called away on family business and asked if we could cover for her."  
  
"That still doesn't explain how you know Lauriel, or why she couldn't contact us herself. She knew where we were supposed to be." Sparks said, his voice dangerous.  
  
The boy nodded. "She said the Pikachu wouldn't believe me." He tapped his chest, indicating a badge that had been covered in space dust so often it was now part of the color. "We both work for the same company, Stripesy." He grinned at Sparks, all teeth. "If you don't believe me, you can always contact the company."  
  
"I still don't believe that you're a skimmer pilot," Sparks spoke slowly, glaring daggers at this strange boy. Ritchie was also incredulous; it was a rare human indeed that could match a Lapras's impossibly quick reflexes in navigating the asteroid field. Most had to undergo years of training to even get half as good as a Lapras!  
  
"Y'can believe what you want," the boy said. He hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and didn't take his gaze off of Ritchie. "Now . . . are ya comin', or do ya want to book your ride through public safety and wait a month an' a half to get off this rock?"  
  
Ritchie glanced at Sparks, who, true to his name, was emitting sparks from the electrical sacs on his cheeks. Despite Sparks' mistrusting nature, Ritchie was inclined to believe the strange boy. He gave Sparks a look that clearly said, "knock it off" and nodded at the stranger. "We'll come," he said.  
  
"Great. Follow me, Ricky," the boy indicated with his head the direction in which they were travelling before starting in that direction himself.  
  
"Ritchie," Ritchie repeated. "My name is Ritchie."  
  
"Yeah, whatever." The boy waved a hand. "I'm Tracey Sketcher, freelance cargo specialist and currently employed by the QuikShot Shuttle Services." He ran a hand through his rakishly long dark green hair. He didn't look back at Ritchie. "I'm only takin' on this because Lauriel's done me a few favors in her time, so I owe her one."  
  
"That's very generous of you," Ritchie said sarcastically. He glanced at the bandanna that Tracey wore to keep his long hair out of his face, then shook his head. He dropped into step with Sparks. "What do you think?" he asked in a low tone.  
  
"I don't like it," the Pikachu responded hotly. He was still a bit pissed that his boss trusted such an obvious fake, but he would deal with it. His ears twitched as he watched Tracey.  
  
"You don't have to like it. I asked you what you thought," Ritchie said quietly, although the anger conveyed in his voice.  
  
Sparks glanced at him, with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Alright. He doesn't look the pirate type . . . smuggler, maybe, but that's doubtful. Anyway, what would we have on us that he'd find worthwhile? Together, we ain't got more than a couple hundred creds and a couple changes of clothes. Worth jack to a pirate or smuggler."  
  
"My point exactly," Ritchie mused. They both fell silent as they trotted along behind Tracey. His trail took them back along one of the less-used arms of the station, further exaceberating the pair's nervousness. Only one of the docking bays was in use here, and a skimmer sat ready to launch.  
  
Ritchie swallowed his nervousness as soon as he saw the starship. Skimmers were the perfect craft for the asteroid field and were designed specifically to navigate it. Not much larger than a snubfighter, they could have a passenger load of up to four bipedal creatures. It was an admittedly cramped way of travelling, but a quick one and much safer than trying to slough through the asteroid field in a normal-sized ship with shields set to maximum.  
  
A ramp was extended down one side so that the passengers and pilot could clamber up and into the ship's small cockpit. Tracey was already walking around the outside of the skimmer, performing one last visual check before launch. Ritchie felt a little reassured at that, Tracey was a true pilot at heart. The only thing that worried him was whether or not the boy was any good.  
  
Tracey glanced up at Ritchie and Sparks, who had stopped to stare at the skimmer. "Go on, get yourselves strapped in," he said, sounding bored. Ritchie and Sparks looked at each other before walking over to the ramp and clambering up it and into the cockpit.  
  
Ritchie seated himself behind the pilot's chair. Most skimmers were set automatically into two-pilot mode, and this one was no different. Seated in the copilot's seat, a pretty blue Marril anthro was tinkering with part of the flight board and swearing softly under her breath. She looked up when the duo had entered the cockpit and offered them a smile. "Ritchie, right?" she asked, addressing him.  
  
"Yeah, that's me," Ritchie nodded to her as he fumbled with the restraint webbing. Sparks snorted at his captain's lack of coordination. The Pikachu anthro was already safely strapped in.  
  
"Lauriel was so upset when she couldn't fly you the rest of the way to Mikan," the Marril told them as she shook her long blue hair out. Pulling it back into a tight ponytail. "But family is family, and I told her that we'd take care of it."  
  
Ritchie and Sparks exchanged glances. So that was why this Tracey kid didn't seem to keen on the entire thing. "Well, thank you for your generosity," Ritchie said gratefully. "Without your assistance, we could have been stuck here on Pinkan for months."  
  
Tracey hopped into the pilot's seat then, startling Ritchie back into his seat. He had leaned forwards automatically when speaking with the Marril. The blue anthro settled back into her seat, pulling on her own restraint webbing. "We're good to go," she reported to Tracey, pulling on a headset.  
  
The boy nodded, flipping switches as he strapped himself in. The canopy closed over them, sealing with a hiss. The board in front of the two pilots came alive with lights as Tracey activated the startup sequence.  
  
The engines located behind the passenger seats began to rumble lightly. When Ritchie glanced forwards again, both the pilots wore headsets, and Tracey was pulling on a pair of fingerless gloves. "Take'er out, Mariel," he instructed the Marril anthro.  
  
Mariel? That's a pretty name, Ritchie was thinking when the entire ship jerked. That snapped him back to reality in a jiffy. He grabbed both sides of his seat as the ship jumped again. "The repulsors are at sixty percent, Tracey," Mariel said, a worried note in her voice. "I thought you had them fixed."  
  
"Ah, they work fine," Tracey said, although he didn't sound too sure of them himself. The skimmer jerked once more, then it rose into the air, a tad unsteadily. It wobbled a little but held firm. Ritchie double-checked his restraint webbing, and looked up in time to see Sparks doing the same.  
  
Mariel finished speaking softly into her headset, then nodded at Tracey. "The tower has authorized our flight clearance," she reported. Even as she spoke, the huge doors at the end of the launch pad opened, revealing the lights on the exterior of the station as well as the velvety blackness of deep space. Mariel glanced over her shoulder. "You might want to find a handhold, guys."  
  
"A handhold?" Ritchie muttered, searching around him for a suitable one.  
  
"Engines?" Tracey asked, flipping a couple more switches.  
  
"Engines are green. Shields are at one-hundred-twelve percent. Maneuvering jets are green, repulsors . . . well, we're floating. We are at one hundred percent and ready to go, captain."  
  
"Then why the hell are we still hanging around here?" Tracey asked rhetorically, pressing buttons and grabbing the flight yoke. The ship really began to hum as he rotated it so that they faced the exit and not deeper into the docking bay. "Say goodbye to Pinkan," Tracey told them, punching the accelerator as he did so.  
  
Ritchie swore as he latched onto his handhold. They shot forwards at a breakneck pace, heading towards the oxygen barrier that separated the docking bay from the vacuum of space. He hoped that they weren't at the wrong angle to exit the bay, because if they were, in a second they'd be nothing but a splatter on the barrier.  
  
With a popping sound that shook the entire ship, they shot through the barrier then veered up at a ninety-degree angle. Tracey let out a war whoop and turned the ship in a tight corkscrew as they followed the curve of the station, shadowing the hull a scant few meters above it. Then the skimmer turned around and shot straight out into the asteroid field.  
  
One thing was for certain . . . Ritchie knew he wouldn't be forgetting this ride anytime in the near future!  
  
~ * ~  
  
The Skitter spun skillfully, avoiding a proton blast that could have easily splattered both craft and pilot into a million ionized atoms. So that's the way you want to play, huh? Ten oriented on one of the Bounders and shot towards it, linking her lasers so that they shot a continuous stream instead of individual shots. Her shots arced across space before painting the Bounder, shearing off one of its segmented wing-panels. The other panel crumpled at the heat and wrapped itself around the cockpit of the snubfighter.  
  
"Computer," Ten didn't look at her screen while she dodged around a couple more enemy snubs. "Paint all remaining enemies." The computer acknowledged her with a beep, and then her targets rearranged on her screen, with significantly less numbers than before.  
  
"All right, I made a dent," she cheered herself quietly. In this brief moment to breathe, she did a visual check for the Freedom Rider, and saw the ship locked in combat with two transport ships. A flight of bounders trailed them. Carmine energy shot through the cluster of snubfighters, and impacted against one of the transport's hull, causing brief gouts of flame to explode outwards.  
  
Without a second thought, Ten yanked the skitter in a sharp turn and headed towards the Freedom Rider. The melee had lost its appeal, and besides, Ash needed her. She outdistanced the bounders almost instantly with the boosted engines of her ship. Her gloved paw hovered right above the trigger as she got within range of the bounders tormenting the Rider. Green beams of energy sizzled past her port wing, reminding Ten of the enemies at her back. She swore, juking to starboard and then down to avoid being clipped the shots. Evening out her shields once more, she spun around, returning the fire. Her off-kilter shots actually caught one of the bounders in the side paneling and the oxygen tanks, igniting it. The other bounder wisely split off from his wingman and looped around the far side of the ship.  
  
Meantime, the Freedom Rider was having problems all its own. The ship shuddered violently as it took a direct hit, and Ash leaned forwards to absorb the impact, his hands tight on the piloting yoke. "What the hell was that?" he cried out angrily, turning the ship sharply.  
  
"Turbolaser," Maverick reported. "We're too close to the Terror Strike!" The Pidgeotto winced as the ship shuddered violently again.  
  
"We can't take another hit like that!" Ash yelled, half-swiveling in his seat. "Where's Ten at?"  
  
Jil was tapping away furiously at her station, keeping a constant stream of data flowing to Ten's snubfighter. "She's coming up behind us, chasing some of the bounders off of our tail," Jil reported.  
  
"Boss, we gotta get out of here," Ten said into her comm, goosing back on her throttle and allowing the bounders to catch up to her. They overshot her, and Ten saw the surprised faces of two Rockets before she dropped in on their tails.  
  
"That's the most important thing all right," Ash agreed. "The transports keep circling us, blocking us in and preventing us from going to lightspeed. With the bounders harrying us like this, we can't devote much if any concentration to getting out of their blockade."  
  
"Ha, is that the only problem? Ten exclaimed. She shot past the bounders and then the Freedom Rider, her engines bright red with the speed.  
  
Ash glanced up to see the snubfighter shoot past them. "Ten, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he cried into his comm, even as the skitter shrank into a bright dot as it raced towards the transports. The bottom of his stomach dropped out. "Ten!"  
  
"I'm just eliminatin' a problem, capt'n sah," Ten said cheekily, flipping down her targeting computer. The heads-up-display lit up the weakest points on the blocky transport ship and painted the active lasers and ion cannons. And tractor beams! This may be tougher than I thought!  
  
"That Pikachu is out of her head," Ash muttered. He slapped the comm over to the inter-ship frequency. "Fiery! Saura! How are you two holding up?"  
  
The Arcanine glanced up from his gunner's position, then slapped his earpiece gamely. "Well, 'cept for this short I've had in my comm I'm all right an' rarin' t'go!"  
  
Saura, seated with her back to Fiery, glanced over her shoulder at the fire- type. "I'm doin' fine, capt'n, except for this whiny noise over my shoulder!"  
  
"Hey," Fiery protested, shooting a glance back at Saura.  
  
"Enough, you two. Your target just got a whole hell of a lot bigger, so you better not miss at all this time!"  
  
"Oh, ha ha," Saura said dryly, swinging her gunner chair around and targeting the transport nearest to them. The Identify Friend/Foe beacon read "Terror Strike." Already the transport had small explosions of color etching its hull, from where Ten's multiple torpedoes had scored direct hits.  
  
"Hey, Ten, don't forget to leave us some!" Fiery complained as they hurtled towards the transport. Both of the anthros oriented their guns on the Terror Strike and started to fire repeatedly at the Rocket ship.  
  
The shots hit against the shield a fair distance away from the ship and sloughed off, provided a cacophony of color as the shields did their work admirably. However, a brilliant explosion came from the dorsal ridge of the transport and suddenly every blast went through, scoring direct hits on the transport's hull.  
  
"Got their shield generator," Ten said, sounding proud of herself.  
  
Ash glanced at his sensors. The Acid Spray was moving closer to them, aiming to attack them and defend their sister ship. Time to cut their losses and run. "Ten, forget the transport, vector up! You go over and we'll go under, they'll probably bring their turbolasers to bear of us anyway!"  
  
"Copy that, chief." The skitter abruptly broke upwards at a ninety-degree angle while Ash duplicated the move with the Freedom Rider, except they angled down. As predicted, the transport turned towards Ash, leaving its unprotected belly exposed to Ten. Lucky for Rocket that the Pikachu wasn't interested in adding a transport kill marker to her skitter yet.  
  
Both ships looped around the transport and shot towards the exit vector for the system. Ash glanced at Maverick. "Did you transmit the coordinates to Ten?"  
  
The Pidgeotto bobbed her head, her crest waving wildly. "Coordinates sent and verified. We're all prepared for the jump."  
  
"Then, what the hell are we hanging around here for?" Ash exclaimed, punching the speed up. "Ten, jump on my marker! Five . . . four . . . three . . . "  
  
Ten punched in the coordinates at record speed as she trailed in the shadow of the larger ship. "Two . . . one . . . Mark!"  
  
The two ships accelerated into blurs, and then were gone.  
  
~*~  
  
There was utter silence on the bridge of the Terror Strike as the ships accelerated into blurs and were gone. After an extended pause, the captain swore and slammed his gloved fist onto his armrest. He turned his attention to the crewers. "Status reports?"  
  
"A good portion of our starfighters have been destroyed, sir," one of the white-clad youths sitting at a monitoring station called out as respectfully as possible. "Auxilarily shield generators are online and maintaining shields at approximately forty percent. Significant laser scoring on the hull, as well as the loss of several turbolasers and crewers."  
  
"Thank you, ensign," he said, finally glancing up. The star field was bright outside the view ports, though every now and then a piece of bounder debris would float by. All that and they hadn't even wounded those arrogant trainers! After coming to a conclusion he rose, glancing around until he spotted a dark-haired youth wearing a lieutenant's insignia. "Lieutenant Danvers, you have the bridge."  
  
Danvers glanced up from his station, his eyes questioning. "Sir?"  
  
"I'm going to see him," the captain said. Danvers nodded, then rose, saluting the captain and holding it until the man left the bridge.  
  
"All right," Danvers said, whirling on his heels. "Let's get this hunk of junk into hyperspace," he barked. "We've got a schedule, let's stick to it, people." Glancing at the closed doors, Danvers shuddered. He didn't want to think what awaited the captain for his failure.  
  
Out of sight of the rest of the crew, Captain Harr Jinkens of the Terror Strike straightened. He paused in the hall, glancing about to make sure that he wasn't observed, then tapped his collar once as he straightened it. That completed, he marched purposefully towards the captain's quarters. He tugged at the bottom of his dress tunic to smooth out the wrinkles before punching in the access code. At a chime of acceptance, the door slid aside and allowed Jinkens into a darkened foyer.  
  
The door hissed closed behind him, shutting out most of the light. Jinkens couldn't help but stiffen further when he felt the whisper of something across the back of his neck. "Only your blaster, yesss?" a soft and seductive voice whispered in his ear.  
  
"Yes, yes, only my blaster. Damn it, I've been through this blasted routine a dozen times, Sariya, now let me see him."  
  
There was a hiss of disappointment from the darkness that made Jinkens shudder. "Where'sss the fun in thaaat?" the anthro complained as the door to the quarters slid aside and illuminated her sultry form. The Persian was clad in a skin-tight black bodysuit that left very little to the imagination. When the door's opening was wide enough, she slid through ahead of him. Jinkens waited for the door to open fully before entering.  
  
Sariya was already perched on the corner of an expensive-looking desk. The redwood glaze meant it came from Viridian's high forests, and logging of those trees had been illegal since before Jinkens' time. The Persian had picked up a lethal-looking letter opener and was fiddling with it as only a feline could. He knew that she was watching his every move, and if he made any quick movements towards his blaster, that letter opener would be protruding from his heart.  
  
"An interesting battle," a deep voice said. Jinkens looked at the high back of a black leather swivel chair. It didn't move, and Jinkens knew that he was being watched in the reflection that the view port provided. He swallowed but offered no apology for the loss. "Would you care to explain the outcome, captain?"  
  
"We underestimated the enemy, sir," Jinkens forced himself to stare straight ahead, not at the back of the chair and certainly not at the smug grin on the Persian's face. "It won't happen again."  
  
The seated figure chuckled, and a single drop of sweat worked its way down Jinken's spine. "It doesn't matter, either way. How many bounders survived? Don't answer that. Once the survivors have been debriefed, immediately have them run simulations of the battle. I want them to be prepared for the next time. Will this ship make it back to Indigo in time for the meeting?"  
  
"I anticipate no problems, sir," Jinkens said.  
  
"You anticipated no problems here. You were mistaken. Are you mistaken this time?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Good. You're dismissed." His cobalt eyes sparkled with amusement as Jinkens made his escape as dignified as possible. Sariya hissed through her teeth and stretched languidly.  
  
"You should have let me kill him." The Persian's tone was more bored than malicious as she balanced the letter opener on the tip of one claw.  
  
"As incompetent as Jinkens seems, he is a very valuable captain and his loyalties are unquestionable. People of his caliber are few to come by these days." He turned around in his chair to face the anthropomorphic Pokémon sprawled across his desk.  
  
Sariya pouted at him. "Our existence was supposed to have been a secret. At the very least you should have let half of my Deathkite Squadron annihilate that pathetic excuse of a starfighter pilot." She flick the letter opener, and it turned once in midair before burying itself point-first into the red- hued wood of the desk's surface.  
  
"Temper, temper my dear." He plucked the letter opener from his desk and frowned at her. "You're merely upset because that anthro was easily as skilled as you in the cockpit. Your chance will come, I assure you. Besides, you'd take no pleasure in wholesale slaughter, it's your competitive streak that would rather you outdo the pilot."  
  
"Bah, I hate competition," Sariya said. "I still want to kill him."  
  
"You'll do no such thing," he said sharply.  
  
"Unless you order it?" she retorted sharply, a rebellious spark in her golden eyes.  
  
"Unless I order it," he nodded. At her spiteful glare, he smiled. "I'm glad we understand each other."  
  
There was a soft rumble that began underneath them. After a moment of building, the ship lurched violently before disappearing into hyperspace.  
  
To Be Contiuned...  
  
  
  
Next Time: We meet the Gym Leaders/Council Members and Ash gets an inkling of what's going on behind the scenes. Gary and his crew run into complications above Vermilion, and Ritchie and Tracey have to face down Rocket as our adventure contiunes! 


End file.
